THE FINANCIER
stirring, and riots; the arrival of John Brown's body; the
arrival of Lincoln, the great commoner, on his way from
Springfield, Illinois, to Washington via Philadelphia, to
take the oath of office; the battle of Bull Run; the battle
of Vicksburg; the battle of Gettysburg, and so on.
Cowperwood saw Lincoln. One day the great war
President spoke at Independence Hall before his inau-
guration—a tall, shambling man, bony, gawky, but tre-
mendously impressive. He (Cowperwood) was only
twenty-five at the time, a cool, determined youth, who
thought the slave agitation might be well founded in
human rights—no doubt was—but exceedingly dangerous
to trade. He hoped they would win; but it might go
hard with him personally and other financiers. He did
not care to fight. That seemed silly for the individual
man to do. Others might go—there were many poor,
thin-minded, half-baked creatures who would put them-
selves up to be shot; but they were only fit to be com-
manded or shot down. As for him, his life was sacred
to himself and his family and his personal interests. He
recalled seeing, one day, in one of the quiet side streets,
as the working-men were coming home from their work,
a small enlisting squad of soldiers in blue marching en-
thusiastically along, the Union flag flying, the drummers
drumming, the fifes blowing, the idea being, of course, to
so impress the hitherto indifferent or wavering citizen,
to exalt him to such a pitch, that he would lose his sense
of proportion, or self-interest, and, forgetting all—wife,
parents, home, and children—and seeing the great need
of the country, fall in behind and enlist. He saw one
working-man swinging his pail, and evidently not con-
templating any such denouement to his day's work,
pause, listen as the squad approached, hesitate as it
drew close, and as it passed, with a peculiar look of un-
certainty or wonder in his eyes, fall in behind and march
solemnly away to the enlisting quarters. What was
it that had caught this man? Frank asked himself.
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